Nature is a haunted house--but Art--is a house that tries to be haunted.

The only secret people keep is immortality.

There's a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.

The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.

The only Commandment I ever obeyed — 'Consider the Lilies.

I must go in, the fog is rising.

A great hope fell You heard no noise The ruin was within.